Dead of Night
by Wilusa
Summary: Ben performs a duty that he feels he owes his father.


DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

_**Note added 12/9/06:**_ For a _full_, clear picture of my latest take on Ben's killing of Justin and the events of the next day, I'd advise reading "Dead of Night," "Choices," "Proof of Life," "Retribution," and "Ghost of a Chance," in that order.

_**Note added 12/23/07:**_ I should, however, explain that "Dead of Night," "Proof of Life," and "Ghost of a Chance" are in the "Look, even something as unlikely as this isn't irreconcilable with known canon!" category of fan fiction. "Choices" and "Retribution," on the other hand, reflect my actual speculation about the direction the story probably would have taken. One detail in "Retribution" has been rendered AU by later-established canon; for the correct canon, see my more recent fanfic "Trinity."

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Ben Hawkins was moving with catlike stealth. But as he lifted the tent flap, a hiss came from the darkness behind him.

It was followed by a familiar voice. "Where do you think you're goin', Hawkins?"

"Sshh!" Ben cursed under his breath. He'd hoped he could sneak out without waking Jonesy. _But maybe that was a bad idea_, he realized. _I'm apt to be gone most o' the night, an' God knows what he woulda done if he woke up later an' discovered it._ "C'mon outside," he whispered.

Once they were outside the cramped tent - which housed a dozen newcomers to New Canaan - he said pointedly, "My name ain't Hawkins, remember? You told the thumpers your name's Jonas Clayton, an' I said I was your kid brother Henry."

"Oh, yeah." Jonesy sounded sheepish. "Sorry. I was half awake. Were you just comin' out to take a leak?"

"No. I ain't sleepy, so I thought I'd do some prowlin' around. Just explorin' the place."

"But we've already spent hours observin' how Crowe an' his gang run things," Jonesy objected. "What more can you see, in the dead o' night?"

"Keep your voice down!"

Jonesy lowered it, but asked urgently, "What are you really up to? I'll go with you."

"No. Just go back to sleep. You need rest more'n I do. You know I'm different, not like other folks."

"Damn it, _Hawkins_" - that was a defiant whisper, inches from his ear - "are you thinkin' o' breakin' into the Crowe house an' killin' Brother Justin in his sleep?"

"No, I ain't!" To dispel Jonesy's suspicion, Ben went on to explain, "I couldn't do that. My powers could get me past the guards, but not the locks an' bolts an' chains he'll have. I know how to pick a simple lock, but there ain't gonna be nothin' simple about Crowe's security."

_That's the truth, as far as it goes. No need to tell him the other reason I wouldn't try such a thing tonight - that I don't intend to kill Crowe till __**he's**__ safely out o' here, headed back to the carnival._

"I just want to do some more harmless pokin' around on my own," he assured his friend. "Mostly 'cause I'm too much on edge to stay still. I could be gone for hours, maybe all night. Don't worry about me."

Jonesy grunted. Turning back toward the tent, he said sourly, "If our business here wasn't so all-fired serious, I'd think you were lookin' for a woman."

Ben allowed himself one fleeting moment to wish he had nothing more than that on his mind.

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When he was sure he wasn't being observed, he paid a visit to their truck. He picked up a few things he might need, and one that he'd surely need: a flashlight. Then he set out, not to "explore" the New Canaan community, but to leave it.

The Knights of Jericho couldn't patrol the entire perimeter. They guarded the access roads used by vehicles. But even by day, a lone man on foot wouldn't have needed supernatural powers to slip out and return. Ben had only to scale a low fence.

Once he was sure he'd be past the guards, he made his way back to the road he and Jonesy had taken to the camp. He knew a short walk along that road would bring him to the horse-trough in which he'd seen the vision of his father's severed head.

He'd learned from Belyakov's books that an Avatar's dead body would only ascend to Heaven or descend to Hell - symbolizing the fate of his soul - if the Avatar had "reached the end of his cycle of incarnations." He wasn't clear as to exactly what that meant. But his reading had convinced him that in the majority of cases, an Avatar's physical remains had to be dealt with in the same way as anyone else's.

_I can't even be sure my pa died near that trough_, he thought as he trudged along the road. _But it's the only clue I got._

_What I'm lookin' for may not exist, anywhere. If it does, it may be in a totally different place, that I'd never guess. _

_But this is an area where it __**could**__ be, an' I gotta try my damnedest to find it._

In the darkness, he almost missed the horse-trough. But he cast his flashlight beam in the right direction in the nick of time. Then he took the trough as a starting point, and began a methodical search - trying to move outward, roughly, in concentric circles.

He lost count of the times he tripped and fell. Stumbled through brush, tumbled into gullies. But bruised and bleeding though he was, he forced himself to retrace his steps again and again, for fear he'd missed seeing what he was looking for.

At last, he found it.

He dropped to his knees, and spent a few minutes in an awkward attempt at prayer for a man he'd never really known.

Then he picked up the shovel he'd brought with him, and started to dig.

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Three nights later, Ben was sure he himself was about to die.

_Samson was right the first time_, he thought grimly, as he dragged his pain-wracked body across the few feet of trampled corn that separated him from a critically wounded Justin Crowe. _Not today, when he insisted I could kill Justin without dyin' myself. Months ago, when he said, "We both know that wherever you're headed, it's likely to be a one-way trip."_

He was prepared to die. All that mattered was that he take Justin with him.

He wondered what would become of the two of them. Whether either of them had "reached the end of his cycle of incarnations." _At least I done all I could to make sure one bad thing won't happen._

He reached Justin's side. Gripped the dagger blade that protruded from the heaving chest.

He tried to steady himself. To ignore his pain, his enemy's gasps, the hand that strove feebly to push him away. To regain the focus he'd had in the healing tent, and when he'd first lunged at Justin in the cornfield. Before he knew about Sofie.

_Damn the man_, he thought now,_ why'd he have to go an' kill Sofie?_

_Forget Sofie. She came here of her own free will, bought into what this bastard was preachin'. I woulda risked my life to save her. Maybe I even loved her. But the fact is, she brought her death on herself._

_Sofie's got nothin' to do with __**this**__._

He put her firmly out of his mind.

With the last of his strength, he drove the blade all the way in. "Plunge...thee...deep!" He heard a clap of thunder, and thought it was the last sound he'd ever hear.

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Brilliant light, a clap of thunder...another man woke with a gasp.

_Wh-what?_

At first, he had no idea where he was or what he'd been doing. Then he remembered having been at the wheel of a speeding car.

_Oh shit...__**oh my God!**_

He realized what had happened in the car. How could he still be alive?

Before he struggled up to a sitting position - in the middle of the night, the middle of nowhere - he realized both his hands had been closed around objects. In his right hand, he held something he was very glad to have: a flashlight. And in his left, a folded paper...

Trembling, he focused the light on the paper and deciphered the penciled scrawl.

_Pa,_

_You may never read this, but if you do you may be confused. Here's what happened. Crowe killed you, and him or his goons buried you near where he done it. I dug you up._

_Its my fault he was able to kill you. I didn't mean it, but I lead Stroud to you and then I couldn't catch up with him in time to save you. I'm sorry._

_I aim to kill Crowe, and I'll try to use the killing to bring you back to life. It may not work, because you were dead too long or because he cut your head off or because I meant to kill him anyway. But I hope it will work. I pray it will._

_If you're reading this I'll most likely be dead myself. I figure Crowe's followers will take me out soon as I kill him. __Do not__ kill anyone else to bring __me__ back! Killing is wrong. It's OK for me to kill Crowe because he's the usher made flesh and has to be unmade, but other wise it's a sin. So __do not__ try to bring me back. I forbid it. _

_Your son,_

_Ben_

Hack Scudder dropped flashlight and paper.

The only words he remembered, the only ones that mattered, were _"I'll most likely be dead myself" _and _"__do not__ try to bring me back."_

Scudder let out an anguished shriek.

Then he buried his face in his hands and wept.

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The End


End file.
